Mine
by may7fic
Summary: Future fic. A worrisome phone call prompts Crane into action and to look back at his relationship with Daniel. Angst-fest. Crane and Daniel with cameos by Hannah, Adam, Brian and a few familiar faces from canon.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating:** PG13, T (language, adult themes)  
**Wordcount: **Approx. 3,300 of 15,000 total  
**Warnings:** Those aforementioned adult themes plus the odd dropped f-bomb.  
**Disclaimers:** See my profile page.  
**Author's Notes:** I'm in the midst of writing a new large multi-chapter fic but a couple of weeks ago this one slammed me and I had no choice but to get it out of my system. Though this is admittedly a self-indulgent angst-fest, I wrote it in the hope that it would lift the spirits of one of our fellow 7B fans whose family has been going through a really rough time. I truly hope you enjoy it, hon!  
It's been a while since the words have flowed this freely but, in letting them have control, it soon dawned on me that this fic has many similarities (or parallels, perhaps) to **Cag45**'s wonderful **Brotherly Love**. Though I often made a conscious effort to veer away from those similarities, the muse would stubbornly lead me back at times and I ultimately stopped arguing. Chalk it up to two Daniel-centric writers with similar visions of the character and of his possible future.  
Mega thanks to **Katt** for the terrific beta, cheer-leading, patience tonight and the inspiration.  
**Important Story Notes (i.e. please read):** This one has been _different_ for me for a number of reasons:  
1) I'm "breaking the fourth wall" here, something I don't think I've ever done before.  
2) The story consists of 2 narratives, both from Crane's POV. The first takes a look back in time and works its way up to the present... in this case autumn, 1985. The second narrative carries on where the first leaves off but is told from a later perspective before finally finishing off in the present too... a _later_ present.  
3) Given my tendency toward beating up my characters, and in an attempt to keep story-lines believable, I make it a rule not to refer to my other stories and consider all of them "one offs". I'm breaking that rule here. This one clearly follows **Surfacing** though all you really need to know in order to follow along is that, in **Surfacing**, Daniel suffered a brain injury during the events of **"A Ring for Hannah"** that resulted in some memory loss and a need for long-term medication during his recovery.  
4) Another reason I consider my other stories one offs is because I don't want to tie myself down to a single premise. Case in point, in **Growing Pains**, I have Crane starting college a year early. For this story (and another one I hope to someday write), that's not the case.  
5) Seriously? No, I'll shut up now LOL. Here is part 1 of 3 (I should have it all posted in the coming week).

* * *

**Mine  
**_by May Robinson_

_**Part 1 (of 3)**_

Dr. Kovacs, my professor for the one and only Psychology course I took at Davis, used to say that most people have no memory prior to three years of age, and few memories between ages three and six. That, often our actual memories of specific episodes get muddled up - my words, not his - with what's been told to us by those old enough to actually remember the events.

Most people.

Most of the time.

My oldest memory is so vivid that, even with the few black and white photographs kicking around in a shoe-box somewhere that commemorate it, I definitely don't need to see them. After all, pictures can't reveal the scent of baby powder enveloping us as my mother settled down next to me and tucked me under her arm.

I was three. Though, back then, I would've adamantly told anyone within earshot that I was three and a half, almost four.

I remember Dad standing there in front of us, every bit as towering as the ancient Sequoias in Calaveras State park. Sometimes it's hard to believe that I've surpassed him by over an inch. Back then and for many years beyond that, I thought he was bigger than life.

Yeah, I caught the unhappy irony there too.

Anyway, unlike my older brothers who'd had every reason to, I never found him even remotely scary. Except in that moment. Dad was holding onto this tiny, squirming blanket-wrapped _thing_, and I remember being awfully worried that he might unintentionally hurt it with those big, powerful hands of his.

That_ thing_ was my baby brother, Danny.

Daniel.

I remember reaching up for the baby then and Dad chuckling, deep and throaty and warm. I wasn't amused though. I think both he and Mom misunderstood my urgency for eagerness. It's true that, after being the little brother in the house for so "unbearably" long, I wanted nothing more than to get a look at _my_ very first little brother. But it was more than excitement driving me.

I truly believe that the vigilance and protectiveness that have pretty much defined me as an adult began to kick in right at that very moment.

Vehemently.

In retrospect, I think that my protectiveness had started up even before Danny came home. It had been a difficult birth for Mom, and Daniel's stay in the hospital had exceeded hers by over a week. Though Dad had warned us when he left to pick her up that the baby wouldn't be coming home right away, I threw a temper tantrum for the ages when they came home empty-handed.

Allegedly.

That's something I really don't remember - thankfully.

I do vaguely recall being upset. More than that though, I think I was desperately worried.

So, when Dad _finally_ placed the baby in my arms, I wasn't just incredibly happy. I was immensely relieved too.

And, as evidenced by those photographs… full of wonder and awe as well. Never one to have been accused of having big eyes, they have never looked so huge as in those pictures.

I'm looking down at the baby in my hold in the first one. In the second shot, I'm looking straight at the camera - my bowl-cut hair obviously as blond as Ford's despite the black and white image - and I'm beaming from ear to ear.

Now, here's where my recollection gets a little faulty, telling me I held onto Daniel all on my own. In the pictures though, Mom's arms are looped around me as I'm holding him; her gentle hand supporting his shaggy dark-mopped head.

It doesn't really matter. Either way, the feelings shown in and evoked by the photos remain the same: fierce love and protection. Hers toward us and mine toward Danny.

_Mine_.

I wouldn't let him go. Not even when Dad reached for him again.

As a matter of fact, I've been told I outright declared, "No, mine!" before hauling him into my chest like he was a new teddy-bear at Christmas. One that I clearly wasn't willing to share. My parents should've scolded me for that; probably did. I don't recall.

I have to admit, even though I was only three at the time, knowing that I'd acted that possessively toward him is a little embarrassing.

Then again, it probably explains a lot.

* * *

Daniel and I were still at school when Mom and Dad were hit. Classes were over for the day but there was a full rehearsal for the talent show afterward and Danny was entered, of course. Which meant, after making sure Evan and Ford got onto the right bus for home, I stayed behind too.

My friend Will Turner's stop was the next one after ours so our folks had arranged with his to make sure he rode the bus with Evan and Ford whenever Danny and I stayed after school. Will took that responsibility to heart and always watched out for them damn near as vigilantly as I did Daniel.

I wasn't even remotely surprised when he decided to become a deputy.

Even though our parents were coming into town to watch the rehearsal, I still stayed after school like usual that night. I didn't like the idea of Danny being on his own in the interim and Mom and Dad wanted me there anyway. Especially after the previous year when Jed Patterson, a fellow contestant, _accidentally_ bumped into Daniel, sending him hurtling off the stage. We were damn lucky that the floor had been covered in gym mats at the time. Daniel had only gotten bruised up in the fall.

Coincidentally about a week later, Jed, who was in my grade, had somehow accidentally run into his gym locker door - twice.

He never bothered with Daniel again. Neither did any of his friends.

You know… I think that was the first time I ever felt genuine approval from Brian.

Not that anybody could ever prove that I had anything to do with poor Jed's mishap. He couldn't even identify the perpetrator.

Still, there were always a few of the older kids who took objection to the fact that a squirt like Daniel could beat them. Along with watching out for my younger siblings at home, I think being on the lookout for those guys was probably where I first earned my vigilance stripes.

Little did any of us know then that his competition had nothing to worry about… Daniel never did sing "Song Sung Blue" in front of our parents that night. Or in the contest. His involvement in the talent show had ended as suddenly as a flash-freeze on asphalt.

After all, knowing that your parents were killed on their way to watch you rehearse tended to suck the enthusiasm out of participating. And out of everything else.

It shattered Daniel. Not that becoming orphans didn't devastate us all. But his grief was saturated in guilt too and that broke him in ways I don't think the rest of us have ever fully understood.

Even though we've tried to.

I've never stopped trying.

Though Adam broke the news to all of us together, inside the hospital's little chapel, Danny and I were the last to find out that anything was wrong.

Sheriff Turner and Deputy Sykes had driven out to the ranch to give Adam the news - though Mom was still alive at the time - but of course Danny and I weren't there. It was Ed who picked us up afterward from school, interrupting the rehearsal all rain-soaked and grim-faced. His dripping hat wrung tightly in his grasp.

I remember hearing adults whispering and then him zeroing in on me as soon as the lights came on in the gym. And I remember shakily calling for Daniel, needing to know where he was right that instant. Sensing that something was horribly wrong, even before Ed solemnly told me - told us, as Daniel slipped his hand into mine, "There's been an accident, boys. Your brother Adam asked me to come get you."

Ed wanted us to ride up in the front of the cruiser with him but I refused. I remember crawling into the back with Danny and huddling up with him against the seat and the door. Daniel curled up against me, his head pillowed on my chest. Ed had the heat blasting back there for us but I couldn't shake the chill of the rain, of impending doom, and just held on tight to my little brother, as though our lives depended on it.

My admiration for my oldest brother Adam knows no bounds. How a barely eighteen year-old kid managed to keep us together, not just physically or even geographically, but emotionally too, is beyond me. He did have help though… from the town; the church; from family friends. Brian.

And me.

My arms were still wrapped around Daniel when Adam tearfully shook up our world. Stayed that way for the days that immediately followed, and the nights we curled up together in my bed. Adam tried to pry us apart a few times. I understand why now. No kid my age should've taken responsibility for nursing a traumatized child through that kind of grief.

I did though. In part because Daniel was clinging to me as fiercely as I held him that day Mom and Dad first brought him home. In part because looking after him distracted me from my own sorrow. But mostly it was because I simply had to. I'd lost my confident, boisterous chatter-box of a baby brother that night and, in his place, found a timid, docile and near silent replica. I loved them both equally but, I missed the first one terribly. Our whole family did.

So I made it my mission to find the exuberant Danny again.

My mission.

Mine.

* * *

I think Daniel's first day of high-school was more nerve-wracking for me than him.

Professor Kovacs used to say that resilience is mistakenly assumed to be a trait of the individual but is in actuality a process.

Bullshit.

Okay, I'll grant it that the support we had from our community, combined with an abundance of love and affection under our roof, were definitely "positive protective factors" that helped all of us recover from the trauma.

But, for Daniel to have come back as well and as far as he did? No, that wasn't just a process. That's a testament to my little brother's heart and his grit.

Hell, by the time grade eight rolled around, Daniel could even have been described as a cocky little shit.

Grade nine had me worried though. It was, still is, a tradition at BHU for the freshmen to suffer through the ritual of "Initiation" during the first week of school. The hazing isn't anything close to what happens in college; mostly the seniors making them wear "kick me" signs, having kids carry ridiculously tall stacks of books, forcing them to crawl on their bellies down hallways, that kind of thing. All of it fairly harmless.

Still, Daniel was awfully little back then and, well, the idea of some of those goons from my class literally kicking his butt or making him crawl down a hallway after he'd come so far…

Tradition or not, my little brother was not going to crawl - ever.

Which, in the end, wasn't even an issue at all.

I'd forgotten about what had happened to _me_ over the previous summer: the growth spurt from Hell.

Definitely a late bloomer, I'd gone from pip-squeak to becoming one of the tallest seniors in school in a period of only a few months. It made for a tough summer. As gangly as a new born foal, I was more than twice as awkward. Brian ragged on me mercilessly, for anything from tripping over my own feet to bashing my head - repeatedly - in the hay loft. Even Adam teased me about it.

The fact that I outgrew them both has been the sweetest revenge.

By the end of the summer, my muscles and coordination started to catch up to the rest of me though. So, by the time school came around, everyone from my teachers to the athletic coaches to my fellow future grads were looking at me differently.

As for the latter group, my peers, that's where unbeknownst to me, the BHU "McFadden Factor" came into play.

The one that dictates: _Don't fuck around with a McFadden unless you want to take on his older brother too._

It saved my bacon my freshman year, though I didn't realize it at the time. I should have. After all, _my_ "Initiation Week" had been entirely unremarkable.

You see, after our parents' crash, Brian ended up having to repeat a year. In spite of the school being very accommodating, he just ended up missing too many classes that first year, helping out at home and with the ranch.

So, that resulted in Brian being a senior my freshman year.

It wasn't until Daniel's "Initiation Week" that I made the connection. I even thanked him for it at the time. I still remember Brian's lopsided smirk when he denied doing anything at all to intimidate his classmates or persuade them to leave me alone.

Of course I could say the same thing about Daniel's uneventful first week. All I really did was make sure my presence was known. Very much known.

* * *

Like all of us, Daniel's had a few setbacks over the years. Sadly, his have shown me the bone-deep, lasting effects of the accident.

They've also been tributes to his resilience.

He took my going off to college really hard. I still feel guilty about it and I know Adam does too. I may have been too young to be his legal guardian but, I'd still been his primary caregiver for a long time. And then I promptly upped and left him like Mom and Dad had. Except, in my case, I went willingly.

We weathered it though. The first year I came home more than Adam intended but less often than I wanted. And, by the time that next Labor Day rolled around, we'd found our stride.

Music helped. Truthfully, it already had plenty to do with drawing Danny out of his shell after losing Mom and Dad. Already at seven he possessed a natural talent at guitar, one our parents had nurtured. Especially our mom. It's what gave Daniel the confidence to compete against predominantly older kids in the talent shows.

After their deaths, the music stopped. Not just with Danny but all of us. It was too painful to sing or dance without our parents being there to applaud us or join in.

But Guthrie was still a baby and singing to him was about the only thing that could consistently get the little guy to sleep. And, in our upside down world, we soon realized that those little scraps of music were also providing Ford and Evan some semblance of normalcy. And even an odd sense of security.

Daniel ultimately couldn't resist the pull. A force so strong, even then I understood that music would be his calling.

So, whenever Adam wasn't working me to the bone those summers home, looking over the books or riding herd - on either cattle or my little brothers - Daniel and I were writing songs together. The lyrics were mine; the music his.

Though somewhere along the line, those roles changed and interspersed and it became impossible to tell what lyrics were his versus mine. Which notes were his versus mine.

Of course, both belong to him now. No surprise there.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The second setback - and what a monumental understatement that is - was what happened at The Howling Man.

Yeah, you know the story. After all, it made the national news.

Teenage bravado, stupidity and stubbornness almost got Daniel, our youngest three, and the daughter of a friend killed in the collapse of an abandoned gold mine.

It was that same stubbornness, plus a dash of that bravado and stupidity that managed to save them though too.

And a lot of guilt.

The same suffocating guilt that still haunted Daniel over Mom and Dad. And nearly resulted in killing him after he practically single-handedly rescued those kids.

He's almost fully recovered from the brain injury and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't thank God for that. He's as strong as he ever was.

At least to the naked eye.

Though almost three years have gone by, his brain chemistry is still out of whack and he's never stopped taking drugs for that. He might be able to quit someday but, right now, without the medication, his emotions still run the gamut. Actually, that's not quite true. They usually head to the same place… and it's always pretty dark there.

Professor Kovacs didn't cover "post-traumatic brain injury depression" as part of his curriculum. I've done enough reading on the subject though I bet I could teach him a thing or two. Certainly enough to know that it's not unique to Daniel.

That doesn't make living with it any easier for my kid brother. Or easier on his family.

Disturbingly, he's written some brilliant lyrics - ones he's been able to sell - when he's forgotten to take his meds. I worry sometimes that he's forgetting on purpose.

I worry a lot actually.

Which is exactly why I'm standing here with a haphazardly stuffed duffel bag slung over my shoulder and the keys to the Jeep in my hand.

Staring my oldest brother down.

"He made his choice," Adam says harshly, though the sheen of tears in his eyes belies those bitter words. Our oldest brother can't stand being out of control and it's not because he's a control freak. It's because he's desperately afraid something else awful is going to happen to our family.

Given our track record, I can't honestly say I blame him. Still, it's in my DNA to stand up for Daniel, even though I'm every bit as afraid of his choices as Adam is. "He's an adult now, Adam. He has every right to his choices."

"Yeah, well look where that's got them."

_Them_.

And this time, he really does sound bitter. He's blaming himself for Evan too, like somehow he could be responsible for what happened in a little over eight seconds and five states away from here.

There's no arguing with him when he's worked up like this - a lesson neither Daniel nor Evan really ever learned, or Brian for that matter - so instead I just tell him, "He needs me, Adam; I have to go."

"_We_ need you," he says adamantly, McFadden obstinacy shining through. "The ranch needs you."

I know. Daniel's gone; Hannah's laid up in bed and Evan's still rehabbing his hand. But, at eighteen and fifteen, Ford and Guthrie are more than capable of taking up the slack and helping the big boys while I'm gone. Besides, with any luck, I won't be away for long. And I won't be coming home on my own. No point in telling Adam that right now. I'm not sure if I'd believe me either. So instead I say, "He needs me more."

"You'd better be damn sure of that choice."

I can already see the regret washing over him so I don't let the threat bait me.

Entirely.

"I _am_ sure," I tell him, every bit as unyielding. I'm a McFadden too, let's not forget. "This _is_ my choice, Adam."

_Daniel_ is my choice.

Mine.

_._

_To be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating:** PG13, T (language, adult themes)  
**Wordcount: **Approx. 6,400 of 15,000 total  
**Warnings:** Those aforementioned adult themes plus the occasional f-bomb.  
**Disclaimers:** See my profile page.  
**Author's Notes:** My apologies for posting this later than planned. I'm in the midst of year-end at work and I've been not only working late but bringing work home nights too. So, part 3 will likely take a little longer to post as well, though I promise that you won't have to wait beyond next weekend for it.  
Thanks to **Katt** as always for the beta and for taking time away from her own writing this week to work on mine. And thanks so much for everyone's lovely reviews for part 1. Each one of them is appreciated and helps inspire me to keep writing.  
As mentioned in my notes for the first chapter, Part 2's narrative carries on from where Part 1 left off. Only, in this case, Crane's looking back from another time in a not too distant future. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_**Part 2 (of 3)**_

When Daniel called home that morning, it was Adam who'd answered the phone - of course.

The kid's speech was slurred which, understandably, set big brother's hackles on the rise immediately. As soon as Adam hissed, "Have you been drinking? For God's sake, Daniel, you know better than to mix alcohol with your meds!" I was on my feet trying to wrestle the phone away from him.

I know fear fueled Adam's wrath - it always does but, lecturing Daniel never turned out well for any of us. Especially now that he was on his own and earning more money than the rest of the family would ever see in our lifetimes.

He was living in Santa Monica then, had just purchased an understated little beach-house that Brian and I helped him move into a few months earlier.

How he got there is a story about two years in the making. Or almost twenty-one, depending on how you look at it. How he ended up specifically living in Santa Monica and working in L.A, though? That's a two year-old tale. One that started with a phone call from Spider McGee.

Spider was - still is - a really well respected session guitarist and Daniel met him during his last year of high-school. He was working with a mercurial young singer by the name of Tally Dean - yup, if you've seen the April cover of "Playboy", it's _that_ Tally Dean. Anyway, thanks to reckless driving on her part, Spider broke his arm in a fender-bender. Tally's band needed a guitarist pronto so Daniel auditioned and not surprisingly got the gig.

And the girl.

Temporarily.

That would be the mercurial part.

She left him - broken-hearted but still infuriatingly star-struck - for the Buddy Hooker tour. And then, according to "The National Enquirer", Buddy Hooker himself.

Once she left Murphys, we all figured that would be the last we'd ever see of her. Though "hoped" might be more accurate.

Brian was right all along. The girl is just plain bad news.

She sent Daniel a get-well card after the mine collapse. About a month after the hospital fundraiser so four months after it hit the news. Some mass-produced Hallmark card with her signature on it. Nothing personalized about it, unless you consider _"Hugs and kisses, Tally Dean" _personal.

I remember Ford of all people looking at it with disgust in his heart and saying, "She's probably just practicing her autograph." It was impossible not to think that.

It might've just been a coincidence but, Daniel slipped into a depression soon after. Long days working on the ranch and nights cooped up in our room writing music helped him work through it though. As did an adjustment to his meds.

Anyway, given the man's association with Tally, I don't think any of us expected to hear from Spider again either, not even Daniel.

During the Buddy Hooker tour, Tally had signed an album deal and Spider somehow ended up producing it for her. It did really well for them both and Spider quickly became the hottest young producer in L.A.

In fact, he was so busy working behind the board he didn't have as much time to devote to session playing. So, he called Daniel to fill in for him again, this time on an album.

We were all scared for him, afraid of letting him go. Barely seven months had gone by since the mine collapse. Barely six since Danny's last seizure.

But he needed to go and we all knew that. Seeing him off at the bus station was hard on the family. On me. Damn hard.

The rest, as they say, is history.

All my talented kid brother ever needed was that first break and Spider, bless his generous heart, gave it to him.

I've started to lose track of how many times Daniel's name has been credited on albums since he moved down there. Okay, so that's not entirely true. I know _exactly_ how often; can even break it down into categories: guitars, vocals, and even harmonica.

But that's typically me, isn't it?

It wasn't long after that first album before the rest of the industry collectively stood up and took notice. And that's when the song-writing credits and bigger pay-checks started coming in.

My little brother's dream has come true. He's got himself a successful career in music.

And it's a lucrative one.

So, what does all that have to do with me facing down my oldest brother that day and abandoning him, his _very_ pregnant wife and the rest of the boys and heading down to Santa Monica?

Everything.

Because Spider doesn't just have a soft-spot for Daniel. He has one for Tally too.

* * *

Daniel and Tally moved in together within a couple of months of his arrival in L.A. He told me it was just platonic - just two friends with common interests saving money and expenses by sharing an apartment.

"I'm not into her anymore, Crane, honest."

He wasn't lying to me. He was lying to himself.

And, while living in that state of denial, he became a very prolific song-writer because of it.

Because of her.

He was incredibly nervous when he brought her home that Christmas. Given the last time the nine of us had all been seated around a table together, I couldn't exactly blame him. We were civil though, even Tally. I don't know. Maybe the insecurities she'd had about her history with Brian - and about being judged by us - disappeared once she and Daniel shacked up together.

Ironically, though I know we all tried to keep it in check, we _were_ judging her this time. We were all incredibly wary of the girl and especially fearful of her influence on our still-recovering brother.

_"He made his choice."_

I know what you're thinking: Daniel and Adam had a blow-up about Tally and Adam either kicked Daniel out or Daniel stormed out, right?

Wrong.

It was Hannah.

She kicked Tally out and Daniel walked right out the front door with her.

Hannah caught Tally snorting cocaine under our roof and let her off with a warning. And then she caught her doing it again. Just a few hours later.

Daniel swore he wasn't using too and I believed him. Still do. The kid has a healthy conceit about his throat and lungs and doesn't want to risk them and ruin his career.

Besides, why pay good money for coke when your medicine cabinet already provides you with its own supply of mind-altering drugs?

* * *

That morning he called home, it was to share some incredible news. He'd been up all night, shooting the music video for "Long Gone Highway", the first single off his debut album. Both the single and the video were going to be released in about ten days' time, once post-production on the video was done.

Yup, my little brother's video was going to premier on MTV in less than two weeks.

He sounded exhausted and, yes, he sounded drunk. But, more than that he sounded devastated and I didn't know why.

I needed to find out. And I needed to help him.

I didn't feel guilty taking the Jeep. Under the premise of no longer being around to keep the International running, Daniel had paid Walt Henry the previous year to rebuild and restore the old truck to even better than its original condition. And with the winnings Evan had earned on the circuit, plus his bonus as "Rookie of the Year", he'd bought himself a brand spanking new diesel dually that Brian christened "Sherman."

Of course Evan had intended to use it to haul Diablo around the rodeo circuit. But, after getting it mashed by a rank bull after a near-perfect ride earlier in the year, Evan's hand couldn't squeeze a Nerf ball, let alone grip a bull rope.

There was still rehab and there was still hope but, in the meantime the kid had been showing a keen interest in our bloodlines and was even trying to persuade us to get into breeding bucking bulls. He was convinced the sport was going to grow and we're actually starting to experiment with a few new lines, just to see what might happen.

But, back then, nobody was making any bull-buying excursions. At least not before Adam and Sherman got Hannah safely to the hospital to deliver the baby.

She'd had another miscarriage during her second pregnancy so Dr. Mayer wasn't messing around this time. All of us were on egg-shells.

My sister-in-law and bed-rest is an oxymoron. She absolutely hated it. But, she wanted that baby so desperately she was willing to do anything.

* * *

"Hey," I said to her after rapping lightly on their bedroom door. Despite being stuck in bed, Hannah always woke up as early as the rest of us.

"Oh, thank God," she replied with a smile as she shoved aside the word scramble she'd been working on and patted the bed. She was wearing that teasing grin of hers but, though I knew she was pleased to have some company, I could also see the worry in her eyes. She knew what was going on. Adam had already come up; checking on her and filling her in on our family's latest drama.

"I'm sorry," I told her as I folded a leg beneath me and sat on the edge of the mattress. Despite Evan being home and the younger two being pretty much grown, I knew my sudden departure was going to shake things up around the place. Though Evan was doing a surprisingly good job at playing "Mom", the last thing I wanted to do was cause Hannah or the baby any stress.

"Don't be," she insisted, reaching out to me. I took her hand. "How did Daniel sound?"

Her tone was soft and tentative. She already knew the answer. All I could choke out was, "Really bad. He's hurting," before she threaded her fingers through mine.

"Then you have to go," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah… I do."

We sat there in silence for a minute or two, just holding hands. But, the battle within me - the one fighting my responsibility to the family I shared a home with versus the one to my broken little brother - must have been written all over my face. Because she drew me in for a hug then; or tried to. Her unborn daughter was impeding us, making the gesture almost impossible and neither of us could resist laughing just a little.

We both gave up and I just planted a kiss on her cheek instead before pulling away and straightening up to go.

"Did you pack anything for the two of you to eat?" Hannah was all business then, no doubt making the right assumption when she added, "There's no telling what Daniel's going to have in his fridge and it'll be past noon when you get there." I must've stared blankly at her for a second - food was really the furthest thing from my mind - just long enough for her to knowingly raise an eyebrow. "What? I know you're not going stop."

She was right. I didn't.

* * *

Hannah was right about something else too. I didn't make it before noon. Scary part is I might have if it hadn't been for the CHP and the speeding ticket.

Though my little brother didn't know it at the time, he was going to be paying for that ticket. And for the bump in our insurance premium. I didn't even know the Jeep could run that fast.

I pulled in front of his house, already dreading what I was going to find inside. And not just because of that morning's phone call. It was what I had feared.

Though they'd broken up before he bought the place, Tally's Mustang was parked directly behind Daniel's '63 Corvette.

Damn it.

This time it was Danny who dumped Tally. For good, he'd told me. He'd put up with the drugs and the partying and her promises to quit both. But thankfully, he couldn't put up with her infidelity.

He still loved her though. I still can hear it in every song he's ever written from back then.

When he'd told me a couple of weeks earlier that her label had dropped her, I should've known right then that he'd let her back into his life. Hell, maybe I did know. After all, he's a McFadden. None of us can ever turn our backs on someone in need.

Tally was in the living-room when I walked in the door. She was a mess.

To this day I still don't know if she'd taken anything else. From what I understand, cocaine is a stimulant but Tally Dean was anything but stimulated when I found her. Slumped on the floor in the small space between the sofa and the coffee table, I suddenly knew exactly what Don Henley meant when he sang, "there were lines on the mirror; lines on her face". Tally was too wasted to acknowledge me when I asked her where my brother was.

It took everything I had not to shake her.

"Daniel, I'm here," I called out. It's a small place and, though denial and faith in my kid brother wouldn't let me think the worst, it still worried the hell out of me that he didn't answer. "Danny, come on. It's Crane."

As much as I desperately wanted to find Daniel and not waste another moment on Tally, I didn't know much about cocaine and was afraid to leave her alone with the remainder I could see on the table. Tally liked to quote Janis Joplin and that had me fearful she might idolize Janis a little too much. No way was I going to let her O.D. in my brother's house.

Deciding against using the paper bag I'd carried in with me, the one that held the sandwiches Evan had thrown together for us that morning, I set it down on the nearest table absent of any drug paraphernalia. There was an open bag of potato chips on the couch so I unceremoniously dumped out its contents and then swept the last of the coke into it before heading for the bathroom.

Where I found Daniel.

He looked like hell too, on the floor in unnervingly the same position as Tally. Only, in Daniel's case he was curled up in the small space between the bathtub and the toilet. I could definitely smell beer. And barf.

"Danny?"

He must've been too preoccupied puking his guts up when I'd called out to him earlier. Because when he heard me this time, he slowly lifted his head and looked up at me.

"Crane?"

I hadn't witnessed pain like that since he'd woken up brain damaged in the hospital. Or maybe not since Mom and Dad.

"It's okay, Danny," I told him, cringing when I saw the hope and faith light up those bloodshot eyes. I held out my arms to him then - the two of us weren't going to fit where he was huddled and besides, I wanted him to choose to come to me. To willingly accept what I was offering.

But when he started to crawl toward me I lost my resolve.

Gingerly setting the bag of residual coke in the tub so that I could deal with it later, I reached down and wrapped my arms around him and dragged him to his unsteady feet.

Awkwardly, and with him slumped against me, I used one hand to open the medicine cabinet and quickly did an inventory. He'd been under-dosing again. Not good but better than the opposite.

Still, I had to ask, "Daniel, do I need to get you to a hospital?"

Though mixing his meds with alcohol could have serious ramifications, when Daniel clung tighter and murmured "No" into my chest, I trusted him. He'd spent too much time singing in bars when he was just a teenager, watching what hard liquor could do to a man, so he never developed a taste for it. Beer was his drink of choice but, thanks to a subdural hematoma, a watchful family and being underage up until a month ago, Daniel was pretty much a lightweight.

At least when it came to booze. The kid was all muscle, especially when he was sagging in your hold.

"Can you walk?" I asked him and this time I felt more than heard his whispered "Yeah" against my throat.

He couldn't.

I ended up carrying him to his room and putting him to bed.

His eyes closed almost immediately though a few tears still managed to escape. I sat there next to him for a few minutes, carding a hand through all of that dark-mopped hair. Contemplating life and the universe and what on earth I was going to do to help my hurting little brother.

But first, there was still the matter of the drug addict in his living-room and the illicit drugs in his john. Reluctantly I got up, tucking the quilt under his chin before whispering, "Get some sleep, kiddo. I'll be right back."

He surprised me when he opened his eyes, baring all that heartache again before clumsily snaking one hand out from under the covers and snagging my wrist.

"You need anything? Some water, maybe?" I asked him; though I knew what he really needed from me was a lot more complicated than rehydration.

He grimaced in reply, giving me the faintest hint of a head-shake. That wasn't going to deter me; I decided I'd get him some anyway. He didn't say anything, just held my wrist and stared at me with those lost, swollen eyes until I had to blink away my own tears.

It looked like he was fading again so he managed to catch me off-guard a second time when he finally did speak. "You think they felt anything? Knew what was happening?"

I was lost there for a moment, unusual for us, so made the regretful mistake of asking for clarification. "Who, kid?" But when his eyes spilled over in so much pain, mine did too. I knew. Even before he said the words.

"Mom 'n Dad. Do you think they knew?"

_Oh, Danny. What brought this on?_

To hell with the addict and the contraband, my little brother needed me.

* * *

I didn't have an answer for him but I don't really think he expected one from me either. So instead I held him. Sitting up against the headboard, he lay curled up almost on top of me, his head pillowed upon my chest, just like that night in the back of Ed Sykes' cruiser.

Except this time Daniel fell asleep. In fact he slept like a rock.

Even through my two phone calls. Speed Dial One on the phone next to his bed was home and, since I knew they'd be incredibly worried, I did call them first.

Brian answered. The first question out of his mouth was, "Is Dan'l okay?" The second was, "Is she involved?"

Score one for Brian's Tally radar.

My answer to the first question was, "No." But I assured him Daniel wasn't in any danger and that I had it under control. I kept the, _I hope,_ to myself. My second answer was, "I think so. I mean, she's here so-"

He cut me off with quite the epithet. And followed up with, "Damn her."

The last thing I wanted to do was defend the girl who was riding roughshod all over Daniel's heart. Not to mention abandoning him to his obvious grief in favor of getting high. But, somehow I found myself doing so anyway. "Brian, it's not all Tally."

He didn't want to hear it and I didn't really want to get into it with him, especially in front of Daniel, so I asked Brian to put Adam on the line. I knew he'd be hovering anyway.

He was.

"Hey," he said softly. It was barely a word but I could still hear the regret tinged within it, courtesy of his veiled threat from that morning.

I told him the same thing I told Brian, though I was sure Adam could tell I was barely skirting the facts. He trusted me though, almost as much as Daniel did.

"When do you think you'll be home?"

I honestly didn't have any idea. "In a few weeks? Maybe more?" This time the regret was mine. I didn't want to miss the baby's arrival but, there was no way I was going to leave Santa Monica until Daniel was all right. And preferably, when I came home, Daniel would be with me. "Give Hannah my love, okay?"

"You hang onto it; save it for Daniel."

I think that was about the sappiest thing I've ever heard him say. And now that he has a little daughter, he's a veritable sap machine.

I still told him I would.

I did.

* * *

Speed Dial Two was conveniently Spider and, after briefly explaining the situation to him, he asked me to give him a couple of hours to make some calls and arrangements then he'd come over and help out. Spider was in tight with Daniel's agent and the studio and, well, I didn't really have a choice in the matter anyway. I needed his help.

Given _what_ was still in the bathroom and _who_ was still in the living-room I probably shouldn't have fallen asleep. I was exhausted from the long drive though, not to mention the worry. Besides, we might not have been little orphans anymore but, I think my body's been programmed to fall asleep to Daniel's steady breaths next to me, especially when he's bundled up in my arms.

Which, just to be clear, is not a regular thing.

So, anyway…

I woke up to voices - arguing ones - in the living-room. Plus the welcome scent of brewing coffee.

_My_ drug of choice. Has been since before Davis.

Slowly extricating myself out from under Daniel, I couldn't help but smile just a little when I felt his subconscious resistance as I pulled my shirt hem from his hold. The smile didn't last. Shaking off haunting memories of his seizures, I carefully manipulated his heavy limbs into the recovery position before making my way down the hall to the bathroom. I took care of business there which, in this case also included flushing the last of the cocaine down the toilet.

Tally was upright and remarkably coherent considering the shape she'd been in a few hours earlier. She was facing off with Spider who, aside from the apologetic glance he shot me, looked both weary and incredibly pissed off. Incongruously, standing there with one hand on her hip, the other outstretched palm up toward her record producer, so was Tally. Oh, and she didn't even bother to spare me a glimpse, let alone a "hello".

I fixed myself a coffee.

Black.

"Tally, I'm not giving them to you, damn it," Spider said in the meantime. From the impatience in his tone, I could only assume they'd been having this discussion for a while. "Just go get in the car."

"I would, but somebody won't let me have my keys," she said petulantly. Then she finally turned my way and dared to bat those abundant lashes at me. "Crane, honey, tell _"Mr. Big-time Producer"_ that I'm perfectly fine to drive."

I know; she had to be kidding, right? She was actually looking to me for an ally.

While I was struggling to tamp down everything vile I wanted to say to her, Spider stepped in - literally between us. "Shut up, Tally," he snapped. He'd wrapped long fingers around her arm by then and none-too-gently ushered her toward the door. "Just get in my car. Do yourself a favor for once and shut up, all right?"

Setting down my coffee, I followed them to the door and once she was past the threshold, made sure to fill the space.

"Don't come back, Tally. You're not welcome here anymore."

I could see the flash of hurt in her eyes, even a hint of desperation but, what came out of her mouth next was pure attitude. She huffed out a laugh and then defiantly bit out, "You don't have the right."

"Actually I do," I replied acidly, counting on Daniel's openness with her to save me from having to explain myself. After a moment's hesitation, her eyes grew big for an instant and that's when I knew the light-bulb had come on. Even though Daniel was solely responsible for the mortgage on the beach-house just as he had been for the down-payment, because he'd only been twenty when he bought it, the bank had wanted a co-signer on record. That would be me, his dead-broke rancher brother.

My name is on the deed too.

That took the wind out of her sails for a minute but, well; Daniel never would've been so damn attracted to her if she hadn't been so spirited. I watched her expression harden and braced myself for her next volley. "I'll leave when Daniel tells me to leave," she said confidently.

"Tally?"

It was Daniel. Mobile, barely, and looking like death warmed over. His hair was doing a fine impersonation of an eagle's nest; his eyes emeralds vivid against the red of his sclera. There were tear tracks trailing from them, traced through the make-up presumably left over from the video shoot the night before. All of which combined to make him appear so damn vulnerable I wanted to cry.

But, in the set of his jaw, there was determination too. And more than enough defiance to rival Tally's.

"Yeah, baby?" She said sweetly.

"Get the fuck out of here."

Her only response was a slight gasp before she abruptly collected herself, turned on her heel and walked toward the Porsche parallel-parked next to the Jeep.

I didn't go to Daniel until after she'd climbed into the car and slammed the door shut behind her. I wanted nothing more than to pull my kid brother under my chin and wrap my arms around him. But, Spider was still there, so I just gave Danny's wrist a quick squeeze before sliding in next to him, ensuring my arm made contact, solid against his.

"Daniel, I'm sorry," Spider said; genuine remorse in his tone.

"Not your fault, man." My brother was right. As much as his appearance might have denied it, he was a grown man now and Spider wasn't responsible for the disaster that was Daniel's relationship with Tally.

Spider shrugged his shoulders, looking about as helpless as I felt. "She doesn't know it yet but, I'm taking her straight to rehab."

I guess that's when I realized Spider _was_ responsible in some way. Or at least _felt_ responsible for Tally, just like I did for Daniel.

"That's good; real good," Daniel said roughly; his heartache ripping my soul in two.

Recognizing then that I was in the presence of another "big brother", I dropped the pretense and wrapped an arm around Daniel, drawing him into my side. He didn't resist.

I looked back up from Daniel to Spider and saw the concern etched in his face, a question in his eyes I knew he was about to voice. I didn't want him to ask about Danny's welfare in front of him though, so I didn't give Spider the chance.

Indicating the door, and with understanding in my heart, I told him, "Go on and take care of her."

Let me take care of mine.

* * *

It took about four days for me to realize I was out of my league and another one to truly accept it before actually doing anything about it.

I'd wanted to take a page out of Daniel's book. Keep him busy and engaged like he'd done so successfully with Stormy. But there was a lot of buzz going on about the impending release of the album and, well, a Santa Monica beach-house and a phone that rang off the hook with acolytes on the line didn't exactly provide the kid with the kind of distraction I was looking for. Or with the grounding he needed.

But I couldn't convince him to come home with me.

He was worried that his erratic emotions and temper might somehow hurt Hannah or our unborn niece.

And I know he was ashamed.

He was right about his emotions _and_ his temper. They were as unpredictable and volatile as they had been during the earliest stages of his brain injury.

And when he cried, I held him. Which would sometimes help or, other times, make him angry to the point of shoving me away. And then he'd feel overwhelming shame and guilt. So I'd hold him some more.

But he didn't get any better.

Even without Dr. Kovacs having covered addiction in class, I was pretty convinced that, though he might well have a drug problem, my little brother wasn't actually addicted to anything in the traditional sense. He hadn't asked for, let alone demanded any beer or his pills and hadn't suffered any of the physical symptoms of withdrawal that couldn't be attributed to something else.

Like playing around with his own prescriptions for so long that they could no longer do the job they were supposed to even after I got him back on the right schedule.

I called Dr. Lee, Daniel's neurologist back home.

A day later, Daniel was admitted into a private clinic in L.A. Though lack of finances never would've prevented me from getting Daniel the help he needed, it was definitely a relief for both of us to know that the money truly wouldn't be an issue.

Danny didn't want the family to know. That he'd, _"messed his meds up so royally that he'd put himself in the hospital"_. He wanted them to focus on Hannah and the baby's impending birth. I wanted that too.

They knew anyway, of course. Whenever I talked to Hannah, she insisted on me being straight with her. "Should I send Brian? Does he need Adam? Do you?" she'd ask anxiously.

I'd do my best to ease her mind. Beseech her not to worry; that Daniel was in the best of hands.

And then she'd tell me, her tone laced with conviction, "That's right; he is."

That made me tear up, every damn time she said it.

I remember walking him into the place and hugging him tightly before handing him his old guitar. The clinic allowed him to bring it along, as long as he didn't disturb the rest of the patients.

We both knew that wasn't going to be a problem.

"Behave yourself," I told him as I pulled him into my arms again. What else was I going to say in front of a couple of nurses, one of whom had to have played Offensive Tackle in school?

"I love you, bro," Danny said softly as he returned my embrace.

That. I could've said _that_.

So I did.

* * *

Four days after Daniel was admitted, Katherine Jeanne McFadden came into the world. Mom and baby made it through the delivery with flying colors.

After congratulating Adam when he called, I thanked him profusely for breaking the family tradition and not naming her something that began with an "I". I knew Guthrie was even more relieved. The poor kid was determined his first child was going to be stuck with Xenobia or Zod. Mind you, I actually do like the sound of Zach.

I should've gone home then. To see Hannah and meet the baby. With Daniel in treatment, I had a lot of time to kill. But, I hated the idea of leaving him all alone in L.A. I mean, what if he really needed me? Besides, I just really loved the idea of the two of us meeting our niece together.

Thank God I didn't go home.

About twelve hours after Adam called to proudly crow his news, at seven p.m. Pacific Standard Time, "Long Gone Highway" made its debut on MTV. The record company was holding off releasing the single until the next morning, confident that the video would boost its sales.

Spider was keeping me in the loop, plus I'd been picking up Daniel's messages. I let the family know too so that they could watch it on the television Daniel bought for our place the year before.

"Long Gone Highway" was one of the first songs Daniel ever wrote without my input. It had gone through some variations since Stormy Weathers first tried to sell it to Rick Marcus for him and, by the time it appeared in video form on Daniel's big TV, it had an extra verse even I wasn't familiar with. Along with an even more haunting melody that belied the youth of its writer.

But not his pain.

I cried. Like I hadn't wept since Dr. Lee induced my little brother into a coma and drilled a hole in his brain in an attempt to save his life.

I was angry too. Wondering whose idea it was to have Daniel play the role of the song's drifter - hitchhiking along an endless highway with a guitar slung across his back; getting bypassed by ride after ride until he came upon a fiery wreck? But I knew whose idea it was. In the video, the drifter pulls the victims from the wreckage. In the video, Daniel gets to save the family.

It could've been trite or tacky or too melodramatic. Instead it was beautiful.

No wonder my kid brother had been so destroyed that early morning he called home.

Daniel's fancy TV had a built-in VCR so, once I knew about the video's debut, I figured out how to use it. Though I knew the song was going to become part of MTV's rotation, I'd wanted to save its inaugural appearance for Daniel. And for posterity's sake too.

Instead, after praying the clinic didn't have MTV too, I promptly called over there and spoke briefly with the therapist on duty. They needed to know.

And then I hit 'rewind' and started to watch it all over again. Because apparently Daniel isn't the only McFadden with a penchant for self-flagellation.

About ten seconds into the replay, Daniel's phone rang. I ignored it.

"Crane? Damn it, Crane; pickup!"

Adam's voice sounded tinny over the answering machine but there was no mistaking the urgency in his tone, or the grief. I damn near tripped over myself getting to the handset. For a brief instant I thought of Hannah and the baby but, I just knew he'd watched the video too.

"Did you know?" He demanded, confirming my assumption.

I replied with a "no" because I understood Adam was asking me about the content of the video. About Danny's buried guilt and grief though? Well, we both knew Daniel would never completely let those demons go.

It wasn't just his voice shaking on the other end of the line when Adam next spoke. I could tell he was vibrating. "You bring him home when they let him go." It wasn't a request. "You bring him home."

* * *

Though I'd been allowed to visit him Saturdays, I think my worry had actually blinded me to how well Daniel was doing.

He looked pretty damn fantastic as he approached me, a genuine grin on his face while I waited for him at the front desk. It took him longer than it should have to meet up with me - stopping for hugs and hand clasps along the way.

When he finally reached the desk, he got a fierce hug from me too.

I should've known he'd somehow actually thrive in that setting. Daniel needed people around him - a family - and, for the duration of his stay, the staff and other patients had become surrogates for him.

Adam was right. Daniel needed to be home.

Despite the attention he was getting, I was pretty confident his personality had as much to do with it as his new-found fame. Admittedly, he had spent time singing to the other patients. But, even though his face was making the rotation on TV and the record was doing really well on the charts, unless you were in the industry, Daniel McFadden wasn't yet a house-hold name.

Or so I thought.

Until a reporter greeted us - accosted might be more accurate - outside the entrance to the clinic on our way out its doors. I wasn't sure of his motives and I knew Daniel felt uneasy too, so I slipped into an old, familiar role of body-guard for my brother. And made sure my presence was known. Very much known.

There were a few more reporters camped out in front of his house too. But, with Danny tucked under my one arm and the other shielding him from the cameras, we managed to get inside without incident and promptly flopped down beside each other on his couch.

And then we looked at each other. And started to crack up.

That had been just plain weird.

"Do you have any idea what the hell that was all about?" He asked me.

"Beats me?" I shrugged my shoulders. Daniel was a lot more familiar with Hollywood and L.A.'s music scene than I was. If he didn't know, I sure didn't. Maybe every new artist or new release got that kind of attention? The single _had_ hit the charts at number seven and was climbing.

But when Daniel flipped on the television to _Entertainment Tonight_ and saw his car, the Jeep and the front of his house on the screen? That became the moment when we both realized we'd bypassed weird and stepped straight into surreal.

Apparently someone from the press had made the connection between the Daniel McFadden from "Long Gone Highway" and the Daniel McFadden who'd rescued four kids from a collapsed gold mine about two and a half years before.

I have to admit, that really does make for an interesting story. Turns out even the likes of "Time" thought so.

"Uh, Crane?" Daniel nearly squeaked as he turned from, according to the text on the screen, _"the hottest new recording artist in the industry"_, to me… his equally dumbfounded big brother.

"Yeah, kiddo?" I answered, flinching as his phone began to ring.

"You think Hannah's up for that visit?"

She was. We all were.

.

_To be continued._


	3. Chapter 3

**Rating:** PG13, T (language, adult themes)  
**Wordcount:** Approx. 5,200 of 15,000 total  
**Warnings:** None really for this chapter  
**Disclaimers:** See my profile page.  
**Author's Notes:** Thanks to Katt for staying up late last night to finish the beta and for today's input as well. As always, all mistakes are my own however.  
Originally I'd considered just keeping this story private and sharing it with only a few of my fellow Crane and Daniel lovers. Your reviews have validated me posting it here so I absolutely do thank-you for them.  
As mentioned in my story notes for the first chapter, this final narrative takes place in the "present"… or rather a not too distant future for the McFaddens. I truly hope you enjoy!  
Lastly, I've included some related trivia and spoilery notes at the end too.

* * *

_**Part 3**_

"Hey, are you heading down to see Daniel?" Hannah asks me as she adjusts the blanket around the infant in her arms. She's sitting in the shade of our porch, the light breeze moving the swing, rocking the baby for her.

"Yeah, he's expecting me," I tell her.

"Do you want to grab some sandwiches? I made extra," she says, and I know it isn't just a suggestion. She was born to be a mom. "You know he doesn't eat enough when he's writing."

See what I mean.

"You sure you're okay if I leave?" I ask, indicating the two month-old beginning to fuss in her hold.

She gives me a well-deserved eye-roll so I plant an apologetic kiss on her cheek before hunching down to place another one, this time in the baby's soft, abundant hair. Tiny fingers reach for my beard and, since the only star I intend to see in the immediate future is my brother, I kiss them too and distract the little thing. It works.

I heed Hannah's wishes and head back into the house. Smoke and Cody follow me inside, vigorously wagging their tails as I grab a few sandwiches for Daniel and toss some scraps their way.

"Hey, I saw that!" Hannah scolds me.

I duck. Even with a baby in her arms, she's stealthy. I didn't hear her come inside.

That doesn't stop me from stealing a few more slices of roast beef - for me this time - for the road.

In no time I pull the Jeep up in front of the recording studio.

"How's the leg?" Daniel asks me as he steps outside the studio's front doors. He must've seen me pull up.

His lips are quirking and I know he's being a smart-ass. After all, I may not have made _People's_ "Sexiest Men" list like he did but I'm still in perfect health. I don't respond.

But it's hard to ignore that shit-eating grin. I'm his brother, trust me, I know this.

He doesn't let up.

"Or maybe it's your back?" He continues; his brow furrowed in feigned concern. But the corner of his mouth keeps twitching so I'm totally expecting, "Wouldn't want an old fella like you to strain yourself walking all the way over here."

He just loves it that I've turned thirty.

I pull the still-warm plate off of the Jeep's passenger seat but hold it behind my back. "You'd better treat your elders with more respect, _Sonny_, or next time I _will_ walk your hot beef down here and it'll be cold and soggy instead."

He laughs at me before lifting a hand and waving toward the house. "Thanks, Hannah," he calls out to her where she's standing now with Delainy still in her hold. She waves back at us and, while I'm looking her way, Daniel steals the plate from me - of course.

It was intended for him anyway and he knows it but, he still giggles that stupid laugh of his - forever the little brother who's just pulled one over on his big brother.

"You comin'?" He asks and I follow him into his place of work.

With our permission - like any of us would have denied him - he had the state-of-the-art studio built up here four years ago. It's been a godsend for my kid br-for my brother. He's named it "The Haven" and I know that's what it is to him. As is home and even Murphys too, for that matter. Everywhere else Daniel's a bonafide celebrity now and he spends more than enough time under the bright lights and scrutiny of Hollywood. And that's when he isn't on the road. He needs the peace of this studio and, even more importantly, the sanctuary of his family.

The building includes a spacious two-bedroom apartment which is where he stays when he's here. Though, for this stay, I've got dibs on the master and he's using the other room.

He still has the beach-house too, though Guthrie's living there these days while he's attending USC. Upon pain of death if he scratches it, our youngest has possession of Daniel's Corvette too. Lucky bastard.

We bypass the studio, with its gold and platinum records on its walls, for the apartment and Daniel settles down at the island bar in the kitchen to eat his sandwich. I help myself to a cold beer from the fridge and, since he's preoccupied stuffing his face, I turn on the television mounted on the wall across from us and begin channel surfing.

I flick past it at first but, I guess the imagery is imprinted on my brain so, before I even realize what I'm doing, I've flipped back to it.

VH1 is showing "Long Gone Highway".

Though he's six years older now, my brother looks exactly the same to me. Maybe even younger than the haunted drifter looking out at us from the screen. I sneak a glance to my right. Daniel's watching too, watching a younger incarnation of himself, and I'm mesmerized.

But no longer afraid.

We never really talked about the night he shot that video. I don't think we ever really needed to. I'd mistakenly feared it had destroyed him and, in a way, it had. But, in the end I realized shooting it had been a catharsis for him too. Hell, more like an exorcism.

I wonder what Professor Kovacs would think about that?

I think sometimes that, if the head-injury hadn't robbed Danny of the memory of saving his siblings from the mine, he might not have needed to rescue the family in the video. Or maybe I'm full of it, I don't know. What I do know is that after shooting that video, Daniel rose from the ashes with the strength to finally, truly end things with Tally and take back control of his creativity. And to stop being afraid that his meds were stealing his soul.

They're not even an issue anymore. He no longer needs them.

There's no such thing as resilient people, my ass.

He's set down his sandwich now and, as he's watching the good-looking kid with the dark mop of hair strum his guitar, I can't help smiling when he does.

As the music starts to fade, his sputtering laugh draws my gaze away from him and back to the screen. It's a good thing I wasn't taking a drink because my own laughter comes straight from my belly. Oh, this is too good.

On top of the atmospheric black and white footage, beneath Daniel's name and the song title, is a single word emblazoned in wholly inappropriate - to the song, if not the moment - neon bright fuchsia and yellow letters.

Letters that spell out: _Retro_.

"Look who's old now," I tell him and his beaming grin lets me know he was waiting for it.

* * *

"A-minor? You sure?"

"Yeah," I answer and strum the chord progression we're working on to make my point.

"Isn't that a little unoriginal?" Daniel grumbles and that tells me he's due for a break.

It doesn't stop me from giving my brother an eye-roll. But, before I can remind him of Johann Pachelbel's influence on everyone from The Beatles to Aerosmith, he shakes his head and smirks. "I know; I know… Johann, Schmohann."

It's good to know some of the classical training I passed onto him when we were kids didn't go completely to waste. "Atta boy," I tell him and I'm surprised by the hint of pink suddenly coloring his cheeks. He's a major recording artist now with awards coming out the wazoo but his eyes still light up like a kid at Christmas when he gets praise from me.

He adds the chord to the sheet music piled on the table beside him and the two of us play what we've written so far. It sounds good; really good.

I have to remind myself not to feel guilty.

Brian and Evan have driven Sherman down to New Mexico to scout some new bucking bull lines; Ford's at work in town and Adam's on a supply run plus picking up Katie and Zach from a birthday party. Jess has gone in with him, ostensibly if Ford happens to ask, to lend Adam a hand. Guthrie's in school; Hannah's looking after the baby and I'm sitting here drinking my second beer and jamming with my little brother.

And getting paid for it.

Assuming the song we're writing together sells, that is.

Odds are, since Daniel plans to record it, it will.

Ever since he built the studio, we've started writing together again. Oh, he still writes his own songs all the time but, I know the fresh air and being home with family rejuvenate him. And always kick-start his muse. He's much more prolific up here whether I'm working with him or not.

I couldn't even say when we officially started collaborating again. He came home, we played guitar. Just like that. Just like breathing.

Actually, I hadn't even known it _was_ official until Daniel's lawyer sent me the contract documents for the joint publishing company. I didn't get a say in its name - Danny knew I would've fought him on setting anything up at all - but, I don't mind. He called it: "Thick As Thieves Music".

Yeah, it makes me smile too.

Especially when the checks come in.

He's been on a lengthy, exhausting tour but he's back home now. We're just in the early stages of the writing process again, far from ready to lay down any tracks or vocals yet. So, since we're not working inside the sound booth, I can hear the Suburban crunching along the gravel drive as it passes the open windows of the studio. I hear the dogs now too, barking excitedly at the familiar vehicle, eager to greet Adam and his passengers.

So am I.

Daniel looks at me. "You ready for a break." It sounds more like a declaration than a question and I know he could use some of that fresh air. Though he helped me turn out the horses this morning, he got a head start in the studio while Adam and I continued with chores around the place. The fact that he even heard Adam drive by tells me it's time to take a breather. When Daniel's completely in the zone, he wouldn't hear a bomb-strike.

"Sounds like a plan," I reply; trying not to sound too enthusiastic. I love spending time with my brother, writing music or otherwise. But what's waiting for me up at the house is even more appealing.

Daniel hops in behind the wheel and I resist the temptation to throw his earlier taunts back at him. He knows I'm really eager to get up there. The boyish grin he's wearing tells me he is too.

The silvery blue dogs meet us as we pull up next to the big Chevy, tails wagging and tongues lolling, though Daniel's getting the bulk of the attention. Apparently the fact that they haven't seen him since morning trumps the table scraps I gave them after lunch.

As we head through the gate toward the house, the dogs circle us. When I nearly step on Daniel's heel, it occurs to me that they're herding us closer together even as they work us toward the porch and the rest of the family.

The two Cattle Dogs have been a huge help around here. With Daniel away so much and both Ford and Guthrie in school, we need the extra manpower - so to speak.

Smoke and Cody are brothers, albeit from litters whelped two years apart. Brian calls them "Little Evan" and "Little Ford". Ford tried to remind us all that Adam and Brian share the same age difference but to no avail, the nicknames have stuck.

I'm sure glad they're here, and not just because of their stellar work ethic.

"Daddy!"

They introduced me to my wife.

Well, Smoke did.

The dogs split apart as Zachary, my almost four year-old whirlwind charges me. "Hey, buddy," I greet him, swooping him up into an airplane ride to prevent him from taking out my knees. And because he loves it so much.

"Careful," Jess says with laughter in her voice. "Apparently he's had a lot of hotdogs."

"Well, in that case…" I stop mid plane-ride and hand him off to a bewildered Daniel. "Here, you take him," I tell him. "He only looks a little green."

Daniel holds his nephew at arms-length and with exaggerated gravity in his voice asks, "You wouldn't throw up on your favorite uncle now, would you, little man?"

My son laughs delightedly in response and that giggle is so familiar, I'm transported over twenty years in time. Or maybe only twenty minutes, I chuckle to myself. I wonder if Zachary will ever grow out of the laugh his uncle never has?

I sure hope not.

Zach is still suspended above the ground and, just like Daniel at that age - and Evan and Guthrie too - the inactivity has become intolerable. "Swing me, Unca Danny, swing me!" he squeals.

His "Unca Danny" complies.

_Danny_.

Zach's picked that up from me, maybe a bit from Adam too. No one but us two has gotten away with calling him that since after our folks died. His grieving heart couldn't tolerate hearing it from anyone that wasn't Mom and Dad, not even from his siblings back then. Though Brian's always used "Dan'l" instead, gradually, and without any objection from Daniel, "Danny" slipped back into Adam's and my lexicon.

He's always corrected anyone else who's tried to use it though.

Until Zachary.

With my son being thoroughly entertained by his uncle, I can turn my attention to the other reason I was so eager to get back to the house: Jess.

We met about two months after Daniel's release from the clinic; after he'd come home with me to meet Katie, rest up some more and regroup. Once he felt strong enough to head back down to L.A., the reality of just how short-handed we'd be here sunk in with all of us. With Ford leaving for Davis and Evan's hand still limiting him, not to mention Adam and Hannah becoming parents for the first time - okay, well, you know what I mean - we were going to be up the proverbial creek.

It was Evan who suggested getting a cattle dog. We'd had them growing up but, when Jeeter died a few years after Mom and Dad, and the boys had to mourn that loss too, I think Adam's protective instincts just wouldn't allow us to replace him.

Time heals though. And things change.

Smoke came along first and, at twelve weeks I took him to the vet in Murphys for his second set of shots. Doc Markell was off courtesy of a disc he'd herniated trying to pull a hip-locked calf at Silas' place.

That was the first time I met the new vet he'd hired on: Dr. Jessica Campbell.

Yes, another vet managed to turn my knees to jelly. I'm not sure what to think about that. Or what Professor Kovacs would have to say. Then again, I don't really give a damn.

To say there were sparks between us from the start would be an understatement. And open to a fair amount of interpretation.

I'd walked into the place already with a chip on my shoulder; annoyed that she'd insisted I bring the pup in for an exam before she was willing to vaccinate him. There wasn't a single one of us who hadn't administered a shot by the time we were eleven. We were ranchers, for crying out loud.

Jess was by the book back then. Very bright and extremely capable but pretty green too.

Speaking of _pretty green_, once I got over my frustration, it didn't take long for me to notice those eyes. By the time Smoke was due for his sixteen-week booster, despite Doctor Markell's assurances that I could just swing by and pick up the vaccine, it was me who'd insisted on booking an appointment… and making sure that Jess was the vet on duty that day.

She's been a great friend and mentor to Ford. He's in Davis' vet program and has been working his practicum at Markell's clinic. Today he's pretty much on his own there so, going into town with Adam to pick up the kids was a great excuse for Jess to pop in and check on him. Though we all know he'll do fine. The kid's a natural.

Jess and I were married five years ago in the same church as Adam and Hannah. But, in our case, the family was all in attendance. Hannah got a lot of leverage with Adam out of that fact.

She's a great girl and I'm still hopelessly, madly in love with her. She's an awesome mom too. Zach is the apple of my eye, though I have to admit both Jess and I did feel a twinge of guilt over how easy and quickly starting a family was for us.

Though Hannah and Adam were blessed with Katie, giving her a sibling hasn't come easy.

I smile as I watch Jess take Delainy from Hannah's arms as Adam swoops in to greet his wife with a kiss. They act more like newlyweds now than they did nine years ago. His palm settles on her round belly and he slips his other arm around her waist. Her vitals are all good so she's not confined to bed-rest this time, though we're all making sure she's taking it easy.

That's one of the reasons Jess and I are staying here at the ranch instead of our place in town. Not only am I staying nights to work with Daniel - after all, writing inspiration doesn't follow a time-clock - but, with Jess still on Maternity Leave, the girls are helping each other out too.

Yeah… Delainy's mine too. My second son.

"Hey, Babe." I follow my big brother's lead and lock lips with my girl. The baby between us is making another grab for my beard though so I offer him my little finger instead. It satisfies him for now.

"You're going to have to lose that," Jess says not for the first time and Daniel, who has joined us now, huffs out a laugh. The dogs are keeping Zach entertained. Or maybe it's the other way around.

"I wouldn't hold your breath," Daniel tells her and Jessica feigns a pout. My eyes are drawn to those lips and I somehow manage to stay upright.

She's seen pictures of me from before Davis and is dying to see the clean-shaven me in real life. I didn't even shave it off for the wedding. Now that I'm thirty though, married and a dad, I'm actually contemplating it. I can't possibly still look fifteen. Daniel knows I'm thinking about it which is probably why he's tormenting her like that. I haven't entirely committed to the act though, so instead I reach out and tug on a strand of Daniel's hair. "I'll shave when he cuts this."

My brother's a rock-star now. His hair's longer than mine.

He looks horrified.

"Daddy, look what I made at Chrissy's!"

Katie's enthusiasm draws our attention to my oldest brother. He's squatted down next to the little table Brian built for the kids, completely engrossed with what his daughter's showing him.

She's pulling pictures out of a brightly decorated folder, presumably something she made at Chrissy Turner's party in town. Will's daughter just turned five and both Katie and Zach were invited to the celebration.

While Jess settles next to Hannah on the swing and begins nursing Delainy, I wander over to the table too. Danny follows me.

"Good luck trying to get up, old man," Daniel teases and Adam shoots him a look of disdain just before gravity takes its toll and his ass kisses the deck.

I contain my laughter, even with Daniel snickering beside me but, when Katie delivers an equally withering look upon her father and chastises him with, "Daddy, quit being silly; this is serious," it's a lost cause.

When her glare's directed at us though, I pull myself together and elbow Daniel. I know it's as hard for him to behave as it is for me - it's impossible not to see to the miniature Hannah in front of us - but his chuckles eventually sputter to a stop.

"Yeah, come on, guys," Adam reproaches us with a satisfied smirk. "This is serious."

_This_ is the crayon work of Katie, the family's budding Mary Cassatt. Though, admittedly her canvasses lean toward the abstract right now. She has something to say about each picture and her father is giving her his rapt attention.

Daniel's crouched down beside me, mirroring Adam, and he and I are looking at them too. It's hard not to smile at the familiar, youthful drawings of horses, cows, dogs, barns and people.

Our family.

"This is Evan and Diablo and Sally," Katie tells us, pointing at each figure as she names them. My brothers and I raise our eyebrows at her depiction of the couple - as a couple. As far as I know, Sally Liston and Evan are only friends but Katie's figures are clearly holding hands. Just like in her renderings of the twosomes we know about, including Cleo Wheeler and Ford. I can't help but wonder if Katie knows something we don't.

Despite her lively narration, I don't need it. Everyone's names are there; printed in Zach's haphazard scrawl. Katie's incredibly sweet with her cousin and is showing him a world of patience and generosity. Much like her mother did - still does - with the brood she inherited.

At not yet four, Zach's drawings are indistinguishable muddy blobs but, he has already learned his alphabet and has been practicing his lettering. I think between his mom and I, we're going to have a nerd on our hands. Though that gives me pride, I do secretly hope he's inherited some McFadden musicality too.

As my eyes continue to scan over Katie's images, one in particular grabs my attention. And my heart. I slide it toward me so that I can get a better look.

It's a picture of only five of us and it's so poignant, I have to look away. But only briefly. Much like the drawing she's made of her immediate family, with Adam and Hannah holding Katie's hands, she's created one of mine. It's Jess and I holding hands with our boys… all three of them.

Daniel's the third, shown standing right beside me. The guitar across his body tells me so, as does Zach's bold lettering.

Though fairly advanced for his age, he struggles with the spelling of his brother's name.

It's no wonder, so did I.

And I made my beautiful wife cry in the process. We'd chosen "Delaney" as our boy's name long before the little guy even came into the world. It wasn't until his official birth certificate arrived in the mail that we'd discovered that I'd inexplicably messed up the intended spelling on the forms and registered "Delainy" instead.

Understandably, Jess was pretty upset and I felt like a complete and utter ass. All I could do was promise to fix it for her. Well, that and grovel a lot.

Though I definitely did the latter, thanks to Hannah I never did have to go to Town Hall and register the change.

The sisters-in-law have become very close and, outnumbered as they are; they tend to talk a lot. Or maybe commiserate is more like it.

So, when Jess called Hannah to vent about what an idiot her husband was, she was fairly shocked by Hannah's laughing response. "Of course he spelled it that way," she'd told her. "Throw out the "Y" and it's an anagram for "Daniel".

After hearing that, we both fell in love with the lesser-known variant and it stuck.

Oh, and word to the wise… don't _ever_ play word-games with Hannah. She's a bright lady to begin with but, after all that bed-rest with Katie, she's become a master.

Zach has mangled the spelling of both his uncle's and his brother's names in such a way that the similarity couldn't be any more obvious. Though I'm sure Hannah had mentioned it to Adam, I still haven't told Daniel. I'd been waiting until we'd firmed up our plans for the baby's christening.

So much for that plan.

He's looking at me now and I can tell he sees it. He looks a little shocked but, more than that, he looks overwhelmed. Between Zach's unintended revelation and Katie's depiction of us, Danny's more moved than I am.

In my periphery I catch Adam's eye and he throws me a wink. He's seeing all this too.

Though I know the raw emotion shimmering in Daniel's eyes is a positive thing, I'm still incapable of resisting it. I'm kneeling next to him at the table now; my hand settled at the nape of his neck. I feel a slight tremor beneath my grip but when we lock gazes with my softly insistent, "Hey," I see acceptance in his hazel eyes. And, even better, a reflection of joy.

His.

And mine.

* * *

"Oh no!" Katie shrieks, as only little girls can, when the wind suddenly picks up and ensures an end to her impromptu mini art exhibit. Despite the three men in much closer proximity to the table, it's Hannah who arrives on the scene and efficiently starts gathering up the pictures and sliding them back into their folder.

With Katie's permission, I've claimed the one still in front of me so I secure it to the table with a well-placed elbow. I won't be taking it back into town with me though. I've already decided that there's a magnet and fridge waiting for it in the studio.

Jess has accompanied Hannah though and my attention shifts. As I look at the baby sleeping contentedly in her hold, I get lost in my own feeling of complete and utter peace.

Not even the noisy arrival of Zach and his two silver sidekicks can break the spell. They've finally ascended the porch; presumably seeking shelter from the rain that's beginning to fall and somehow their collective chaos only adds to my serenity.

It's clear though that Jess wants to help the girls rescue the artwork but, as she begins to pass the baby over to me, Zach reaches up for his little brother instead.

"No, me! Me!" he insists and he knows better. Despite his affection for his canine companions, Zachary adores his baby brother in ways that melt my heart and already fill it with pride. But, he's been told he's only allowed to hold Delainy when he's calmly seated with one of the grownups beside him.

I'm just about to remind him of the rules when Hannah reaches for the picture I'm shielding and, before I even realize I've done it, I slap my hand down on it. My, "No," sounding as demanding and desperate as Zach's.

Hannah's been a part of this family a long time and doesn't even bat an eye at my behavior, only shakes her head. There's laughter in her eyes though, even as she leaves the picture with me, pats my arm and then ushers Katie, Zach and the dogs inside the house.

While Hannah might not have been offended, _I'm_ absolutely mortified. I think Daniel is too. His head is down and he's barely breathed let alone flinched at my side.

It's my wife's reaction that has me worried. After all, that was quite the example I've just set for our son.

I meet her gaze and I see a sternness there that makes me wince. Wordlessly she passes Delainy over to Adam, who accepts his nephew with practiced ease. "I'd best get him inside," he announces, his voice tight. Big brother follows through on the plan, swiftly heading into the house with my son but not before shooting me a sympathetic look.

I know that logically he's sheltering my baby boy from the inclement weather and I should be grateful. Still, a part of me is thinking: _chicken._

Not Daniel though. Jess is radiating irritation and disapproval but the kid is sticking by me.

_Thick as thieves. _

It's official after all.

Jess knows it too and I'm hoping she doesn't take out any of her disapproval on him. Despite his fame and accolades, Daniel's got an insecurity about him when it comes to Jessica. Which is definitely ironic since she was most anxious about meeting _him_ when we first started seeing each other. Getting to know the rest of the family had been an organic thing, a natural progression of our relationship. Meeting Daniel though was different.

It was in the middle of his first tour to promote his debut album. He was still an opening act back then; playing two nights at the Coliseum in Oakland and had some time off both before and after those gigs. Not surprisingly he came home. The fact that he was opening for Bruce Springsteen on the fifth leg of his _Born in the USA_ tour definitely made things a little strange. You see, Jess was a fan of both the headliner _and_ the opening act and was actually more than a little tongue-tied when she met Danny. I think he mistook her silence for aloofness and maybe even disapproval in some warped way so their initial meeting hadn't gone as smoothly as I'd hoped. After all, I knew I had it bad for Jess and desperately wanted them to hit it off.

It didn't take long at all though for Jessica to grow to love him like a little brother. She's even protective of him, especially when it comes to whichever model he happens to be dating at any given time. Danny though? Even though he adores and admires Jess, I know he worries sometimes about being a fifth wheel in my immediate family. It's ludicrous but, I'm conscious of it so, I worry that Jessica's annoyance with me in this moment might ricochet and hit Daniel too.

I really should know better by now.

She huffs out an exasperated sigh and holds out her hand and I feel like I've been caught stealing from the cookie jar. I acquiesce to her wishes anyway, of course, and hand over Katie's picture.

Immediately Jess' features soften and those voluminous lips quirk as a different sigh altogether passes through them. One that melts my heart. "Well, that certainly explains it," she says warmly, before placing a tender palm against Daniel's face.

"It does?" he asks, and I know there's a hopeful but unspoken _and you're really okay with it?_ putting that tremor in his voice.

I don't come to my little brother's rescue this time. I'm too busy patting myself on the back for the choice I've made in brides. Not to mention falling head over heels for her all over again. Jess gets me even better than he does and I'm an awfully lucky man.

"Yeah," I tell him as I drape an arm around his shoulder. My other one wraps around Jessica's waist when I walk them both to the door.

"It explains a lot."

.

- Fin -

_._

_Endnotes:_

Despite how short this story is, I wanted to include these notes which, if you read on, you might find interesting...

First though is a comment about the dogs. **Smoke** and **Cody** are real, though they passed over the Rainbow Bridge many years ago. Smoke was actually Cody's father, not his brother. They were Australian Cattle Dogs, aka Blue Heelers, and though they never worked Cattle, they both did work sheep. Cody was my boy - my first dog that I got as an adult. I'd fallen in love with his mother Jackie (owned by a friend) so was first in line to get a pup from her when my friend added Smoke to the family and bred them together. This story is dedicated to Jackie, Cody and his dad "Moke".  
**Jeeter**'s real too, well sort of. There's a very early draft version of the 7B pilot script floating around that places the McFadden family in Carbon County, Montana instead of California and Jeeter belongs to the McFaddens. When Hannah joins the family, she brings with her Cat, her -wait for it- cat. Chaos ensues. So, though there's no Cat, I decided that Jeeter would become a part of this backstory too ;).  
I've referenced Crane being small and baby-faced as a teen in a few fics now. Though this doesn't come from canon, I've based this on interviews with Peter Horton and pictures I've seen of him as both a teen and without his beard up to about age 30. He looked so young, it's no wonder he had the beard as Crane! According to Peter though, his growth-spurt didn't hit until college.  
Speaking of Peter, though I've given Daniel the title of one of **People**'s "Sexiest Men of 1991", it was actually Peter who made their list of the "50 Most Beautiful People" that year. I for one would definitely agree ;)  
As for Roger Wilson, the reference to Daniel dating models is definitely a nod to Roger and his reputation as a "serial super model dater" LOL.  
And finally, if anyone checks, Bruce Springsteen's massive "Born in the USA" tour did not have a 5th leg. It did have 4 though; the last falling around the time Daniel's video and single hit the charts. So, I decided to give that tour one more leg and bring "The Boss" back to Oakland so that Daniel could play close to home ;)


End file.
